Sympotein!

Good Evening, cherubs!

My absence this time? A pleasantly boring vay-cay in the Arabian Desert; in a town where one needs to have an ‘alcohol license’ to drink – and where two official government websites pertaining to acquiring one 404. Shocker.

I will not tell you where the place is, but I’m sure a clue won’t hurt.

It’s One. Big. Construction site.

(Like the aforementioned websites)

Anyway, my lack of alcohol led me to attempting to brew mine own aqua vitae, and considering I still have full use of my arms, limbs and genitalia; Date Liqueur is my current Magnum Opus.  The blessings of owning one’s own date palms. I’ll let you in on the disastrously easy recipe in my next article, but for now, I thought of going in a slightly different direction tonight. Instead of reviewing bars, we shall deal with YOU.

The Patron.

Bars, being haven for the inebriated, sometimes (underestimate) lead to patrons being pissed out of their minds and blaming the ‘tenders for all their work.  Even bliss comes at a price, which is bar etiquette.

A bar is NOT a pub. A bar is NOT your couch. A bar is NOT your private brothel. True, different bars will demand different degrees of etiquette. What you can get away with at The O Bar (see: ‘O, oh?’, update 3^rd May, 2010), you will not be able to get away with at the Amuse Bouche.  You will be expected to determine this difference yourself, and this is YOUR responsibility. It is also the bar’s responsibility to show you respect appropriate to your behaviour. If you act like a moron, you will be treated as such. Bars still reserve the right to kick you out with a whim

I am not saying that a bartender is immune from being a twat, but that you need show respect to get it.

Take a deep breath, this may sting.

• ·         Know Your Bar.

There’s a reason blogs like ‘WYV?’ exist. Websites, TimeOut guides, USE THEM. If you’re out and are looking for a bar, remember: Just because it’s packed, does NOT mean the bar’s a good one. The Bastille was packed in 1789. Look for a bar where tables are in demand, or at worst, you will need to wait for a table, but not long.  You don’t want to wait millennia for that Tom Collins.

As aforementioned, not every bar is gonna know how to make said Tom Collins. If you’re lookin at one with a decent fill on liqueurs in the back, you’re in business. If not, stick to a simple classic. If you’re stuck in a pub, well. You know what to do. This leads me to my next point:

• ·         Know Your Venom.

Let me tell you mine. If I’m in a bar with a plain, decent back (and no menu): I avoid the Martinis. If you want to keep that discerning palate of yours, you should too. I keep mine simple for these occasions: A Tall Black Russian.  3 parts vodka, 2 parts coffee liqueur, fill with coke. If it’s Smirnoff, I avoid it altogether and go for a Gin and Tonic (Gordon’s, horrific as it may be, is slightly more palatable than that pathetic excuse for drinking alcohol.  I like G&T with Hendricks).

Effortless, easy, elementary. And if that bartender is inexperienced enough to ask you how a Tall Black Russian is made, uncomplicated to describe. FIND a simple concoction for the moronic. Very handy in pubs where pubtenders (I know it’s not a word, but it should be) need not serve cocktails at all.

Most importantly: If you don’t know what’s in it, DO. NOT. ORDER IT. If you’re asked how to make it and you stand dumbfounded before ‘tenders, you’re a laughingstock.

• ·         Observe Your ‘Tender:

If you are in a venue where you must go up to bar, remember: The bartenders govern their bar, you don’t. They call the shots, you just drink them. This is their territory, and must be treated as such. Remember watching hyenas scavenge around a territory of a lion pride on Animal Planet (Or Lion King for the less intellectually exploratory)?

Most often, your bartender has a method. S/He will select who to serve, and you, young hyena, must observe their patterns.  Perhaps they go from one side to the other. Perhaps they go for groups of pretty people first. Perhaps they like to entertain the people forced to the second row, purely out of kind-heartedness.  Patterns in everything, observe, note, attack.

And this is where the etiquette comes in:

• ·         Contact Your ‘Tender:

Eye contact. Smile. This does not ensure immediate service, but it ensures a good first impression, which is VITAL. They will not forget you for the night. This lion has to deal with a whole crowd of you inebriated lot, so deal with their momentary indifference.

Make your way to the front row; do NOT wave money in their face. Your cheap-ass debit card won’t work either. Do NOT snap your fingers. Do NOT whistle at them.  And for the love of all that is deliciously drunken, do NOT call them nicknames. No boss, no chief, no bro, no dude, NOTHING.

Sir, bartender or their name if you know it. Stick to these titles. This is for your own good. Consider your bartender your psychopomp to the Divine; treat them as such.

• ·         Will that be Cash or Tab?

For those who don’t know what a tab is, it’s a bar taking your credit/debit card for the evening and you pay the entire bill at the end.  Now, couple of reasons why cash is better than tab:

Tabs, on a particularly drunken eve, can result in a forgotten card, or arguments with the bartenders because one of you believes you drank more or less than you did. Or that friend who thinks you’re a walking bank account. Or that creep on the next table who hears your name. Or the fact that bars tend to add a ‘tab service charge’. Or that it takes you the whole night to realize you don’t have enough cash on your account.

Cash could make this psychopomp lion your best friend:

• ·         Tip, Tip, for the love of drunken Bacchus, Tip:

Oh, you’re a student? Oh, you don’t have the money to spend? Oh, well, boo friggin’ hoo, sit at home with your Sainsbury’s Basics Vodka and cry into your sorry ass Tesco’s-bought popcorn.

I won’t lie, there are times I don’t tip. If the drink is not up to par, or if I’ve got a tab (hah). Or if I’ve spent the last of my cash on that Vesper (this has happened more than once).

At the end of the day, bars are an expensive business.  So find that lion, choose him/her, and stick with them the rest of the night.

50p to a quid for a beer. Maybe 2 for a cocktail. Little more if you’re dealing with quality. Hand the ‘tender a note and you’re in. Remember, on your first drink, tip big. Depending on how crowded the bar is and how much you intend on drinking; 5 to 10 quid should do it. For the rest of the night, your tips get smaller. This unspoken deal your ‘tender understands, s/he knows you can’t tip like Bruce Wayne the whole night; but you know how the business works, so s/he knows you’re a hyena worth sharing that carcass with.

In short? Do not go into a bar with less than 30 quid in your pocket and someone rich to flirt with.

Oh, wait, money and flirting!

• ·         The Pre-Drink:

Keep a little alcohol at your house. It’s worth the investment. Before boozing, have two or three drinks at home, depending on your tolerance. Just enough to get the blood flowing, not enough to slur your speech or make you fail a sobriety test. Walk a straight line.

Like I said, bars are an expensive business. If I’m going somewhere I know has fabulous drinks or innovative flavours, I restrict the Pre-Drink to really enjoy the tastes. If I know it’s somewhere blasé, I’ll pound that gin back.

Remember, don’t get so drunk that the bouncers will keep you out. No point leaving the house then.

• ·      Buying Drinks for Others:

Now this is oft screwed up.

When intoxicated, falling for your bartender and demanding to buy them a drink is not uncommon. Sometimes, they might even let you, although I’ve only experienced this outside London.  Now where is the mistake you’re making?

Drinking on the job is most often reprehensible by the bar manager. It. Does. NOT. End. Well. If you’re that desperate for the bartender loins, ask for a card and their name, and contact them the next day, for goodness sake. They will reject your drink 90% of the time and are probably bored of being offered one every 10 minutes.

Oh, it’s usually illegal in the big cities. You’re threatening your cute bartender’s livelihood here.

If you’re anything like the Doctor and shy as a marmoset (when sober), sending a drink is the easiest way to spark a conversation, but also the most unreliable. A cocktail ain’t gonna give you unrestricted access to their bedroom. You might get a reply, you might not. Deal, Goldilocks.

Wait before bombarding s/he with a drink as soon as they walk in. Lovers need not waltz in with them, and heaven forbid they’re a muscle-bound neo-Nazi.

Try to get a cocktail waiter/waitress to send the drink, not the bartender. S/He ain’t gonna chase your target and take the time to explain who sent it when they have a bar to look after. Don’t hand them a drink yourself with your GHB-dosing ass

For heaven’s sake, describe your target clearly (Learnt this one from experience…*shudder*).

If received, look over at said target; because staring into your mate’s eyes while target’s looking for you is creepy, even more so than you waving incessantly at them. A smile and a small wave is enough, and if said smile and/or wave are not returned, chasing target just makes you a stalker, not persistent.

If it didn’t work, well, I warned you.

• ·         “A Round for All!”

Okay, so the night’s worn on, you and your pals are teetering over the edge. You go, “Hey, get a round of Flat-liners for everyone!” Don’t. Please don’t be that person, sometimes, people don’t feel like drinking (shock/awe). Ask your friends before making orders for them. And do this before calling the water/waitress, because they don’t want to stand there waiting for you when they could be earning tips somewhere else.

This next one should be a no brainer:

• ·         “Your clothes... give them to me, now.”

This is London. No one cares for your honour. And ‘winning it back’ doesn’t matter. Protect your reputation in this bar, if you like it – because your bar’s employees will remember you as the guy who resists getting into fights. You wanna get into one? Take it outside. And far away. Better yet, organize for a duel at dawn. A bar that has its reputation stained by your short tempered ass fighting in or around it will remember you. And not well. Losing is a failure; retreat is an art of war.

And the best piece of advice I can give you?

• ·         Be a Regular

If you find a bar you love, and love it. Go there often, befriend a number of bartenders, get to know them, tip well. This is a development of a working relationship. S/He knows your drink, how you like it, your personality and openness to taste and experience, your troubles and how to respond, and how to look after you. Follow the above rules and above ALL, be polite. Doctor’s Orders.

Cherubs! Heed these for a good night out and Dionysos keep you, you inebriated fools!

“For sensible men I prepare only three kraters: one for health (which they drink first), the second for love and pleasure, and the third for sleep. After the third one is drained, wise men go home. The fourth krater is not mine any more - it belongs to bad behaviour; the fifth is for shouting; the sixth is for rudeness and insults; the seventh is for fights; the eighth is for breaking the furniture; the ninth is for depression; the tenth is for madness and unconsciousness.”

-       Dionysos, Greek God of Wine; by Eubulos, from a surviving fragment of a lost play.

-       The Doctor would like to remind you that Ancient Greek wine was devastatingly strong and had to be diluted to drink >; ]

-       And the fact that it is a late, recent play, when Dionysos was made ‘nice’.

O, oh?

Okay, the title is horrible.

Well, DEAL WITH IT. It’s a cruel, cruel world and sometimes titles suck. Like my long hiatus and a cocktail made by a dumbass with no training in the field (yes, I’m talking to you, Parisian-bartender-that-made-a-Manhattan-taste-like-cat-refuse).

Okay, I shan’t be a total let down and say that Parisians can’t make cocktails, I mean, I subsisted on about 6 Kir Royales a day for a week, but after a few total disasters at more than one bar and café, I learnt to steer clear.

Yes, the Doctor likes a drink every couple of hours, have you an issue?

Anyway, for the sake of fairness, there were decent drinks at fairly pricey bars, in fact, I suppose I’ll make a supplementary Parisian bar review this week, in case you’re on the continent soon =)

Now, to our review!

Our new target is unmissable on an insomniac Londoner’s favourite street: Wardour of Soho.  The O Bar has held its place on Wardour for a decade now, and still fills up to full capacity on the weekend – decent work there.

Mind you, the shots and strong and prices reasonable. I have stumbled out of this place once in a while, once with a chipped tooth. Had a fantastic time – but one can enjoy themselves anywhere, with the right company, even at a car impound lot.

Actually, a car impound lot sounds like a LOT of fun.

But, I am here to critique, and cut and slice and narrow bars down to their essence: the design, the crowd, the music, the service and most importantly: the drinks.

Entry is free before 10PM, 5 quid after – in a perfect world, I wouldn’t pay that much to get in the O, but in this area, the free bars aren’t even worth a sniff.  Get there at 9.30 and make the most of it.

If you happen to be around after ten, look for one of their flyers floating around Wardour for a discount.

The bar consists of three floors: the main bar, the dance floor below and the VIP room above, strictly private bookings. The dance floor has two alcoves (the website says for 20 people each: bullscheisse) and a tiny table for 6 that can be booked in advance.

There isn’t much to be said about the design, really. A few tables pepper the room, near the coveted red seats lining the walls – banquettes line the large windows to Brewer street. It’s often described as ‘intimate’ but the music is far, far too loud to allow any sort of intimacy to be honest – the O Bar always struck me as a get-here-get-pissed kinda place.

With that note, we retreat to the lower dance floor. Design is not its strong suit. Not particularly aesthetically pleasing or imaginative, this floor’s two alcoves are probably what you should aim for, secluded enough for a conversation, and a good resting place between dances, which is probably the only reason you should be down here, anyway.

The upper VIP room is full (FULL) of leather couches for a room that small, accompanied by little bar and out-of-order fireplace. Probably the least interesting place in the bar. Save your money and just get a seat downstairs. If you think I’m being harsh because you’ve already booked it for your birthday – well, I apologise….That you have to celebrate your birthday here. Seriously, what possessed you? In all honesty, stay downstairs. Cheaper and much more fun.

Music is charts – requests hardly ever taken. One night infuriated many a patron with the DJ playing the same playlist OVER AND OVER AGAIN. There’s only so much ‘Tonight’s gonna be a good night’ one can take in an evening. I get it. It’s gonna be a good night.

Speaking of patrons, well, one can tire of the first few hundred gropes and slurring late night invites. Not to mention that it’s a small space and flailing is not particularly recommended as a dance step.

Service is what you’d expect; we’re not exactly at the Connaught. Go up to the bar, ask what you want. Bartenders are incredibly blasé and do their job, although there is the occasional flirtatious employee and everyone’s gotta love the Jager girls. This bar was once popular for Italian waitress, Antonella who is sadly not with them anymore, but c’est la vie – although her absence has resulted in the O Bar losing some of its flair for me, my pals, and all the other reviewers of the bar who have mentioned her fantastic service – she’s the type to check on you every five minutes with a new shot, a new joke, a new story and somehow manage to get you to dance with her on the reinforced bar top.

Correction, did I say this place was reasonable? Well. Maybe not so much since the up in prices recently. We’re looking at £3.90 for a ‘single shooter’ and £6.90 for a double. Damn. Especially considering that that there are only 8 of them: classics none the less. Some of my loves like Slippery Nipples and Blowjobs to the less savoury Cherry Bombs. One thing that sets me aflame here is the much more affordable prices for shooters at Rumi (see: ‘Ours is not a caravan of despair!’, update 11^th October, 2009) and the imagination that went into those shooters.

Imagination is definitely not a strong point here, is it? Although I love the 50+ cocktail list, they’re all old favourites. No creativity, no risk, no effort. ‘Cocktails’ come at £6.50 (notably cheaper than the double shooters – what?) and £16 a jug. Not much need of elaboration here really, you’ll find these drinks at your local Wetherspoons (lord, damn the place).

Six ‘Champagne Cocktails’ at £7.50 – and a short list of cheap wines. Champagnes are a difficult choice because you might have the strictly decent £43 Pommery Brut Rose or the much more expensive £135 Dom Perignon – nothing in between in terms of price/quality.  

Okay, so maybe the drinks could use more imagination, but what about the bartenders? When it comes to making the drinks, they do what they’re told. Strictly. I noticed how only one bartender took the time to cater the drink to all the senses, making sure, for example, to not let the alcohol’s stench overpower the taste through a few simple maneuvers. The rest couldn’t care less. Not saying the drinks were bad, not saying they were worth noting either.

I find it bitterly hilarious how the website mentions to check out their nonexistent food menu. Just saying.

In conclusion, cherubs? Well. The O Bar, as I said before, has entertained me, but only as long as I am with my closest, hardest, drinking fellows who can nail 11 Blowjobs in a night and carry the Doctor back to his practice. The design is negligible, since the place is usually too crowded. Not much seating for said crowd. Not exactly the best crowd, either. Variety of decently made drinks is good, but original they are not. Service is decent. Music, charts for me may not be fantastic, but the majority enjoys it.

Hurrah for mediocrity!

Design: 5

Drinks: 5

Service: 5

Quote of the Evening:

“ANTONELLA! 5 MORE BLOWJOBS, STAT!”

The O Bar

83-85 Wardour Street, London

W1D 6QD

Telephone, Email and Website:

0207 434 9413

info@obarsoho.co.uk

http://www.the-obar.co.uk

                                                                                       

Hours:

Mon-Thu: 4pm-3am; Fri-Sat: 2pm-3am; Sun: 2pm-10.30pm

Hiatus

Apologies, cherubs, for this short hiatus, busy universities and expensive London is keeping the Doctor busy for the moment, will be back soon, I assure you this! If not next week, then definitely by the 22nd of November.

Remember, a Martini a day - Doctor's Orders.

Ours is not a caravan of despair!

Cherubs! Has been a fortnight since the debut blog post and I suppose it makes a reasonable delay between blogs. Perhaps I should stick to it…

Anyway, today’s blog is dedicated to the Chelsea bar, Rumi, named after the famed Mawlana Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, Sufi poet and philosopher of the 13^th Century; his origin being  from Turkey or Persia is still debatable, though the debate is pointless;  he rose above race, country, religion and matter itself. My favourite poet of the season, definitely. The title of today’s post coming from one of his works, and also helps express the wonderful times I’ve had at the Rumi Bar.

Though I may have only been there three times, never have I really been disappointed. Tucked away in a shady corner amidst the King’s Road nightlife, Rumi gives one a quiet (well, earlier in the evening at least) space to prepare for a harder night out, or to wind down at after a dinner at nearby Kensington (with those fabulous roof-top restaurants) with some exceptionally respectful doormen wishing you a good evening on the way in.

My first visit here was on a Thursday night, booked with a party of say 20 for a birthday, another large group apparently cancelled their booking last minute, leaving the place to ourselves – which was perfect considering the size of the place.
Like Detroit last week, it’s tiny.

(In comparison, whereas last week’s Detroit could have been considered ‘holey’, Rumi has a particularly intimate and chilled out feel, even in its size.)

At the same time though, it adds a personal touch to it all, but if it’s just you and a couple of pals, book a couch for yourself a couple of days in advance for the weekend, when the distinctively ‘Rumi’ crowd comes in – 20/30-something photographers, models, media types and occasional director mainly; which make for fantastic conversation – confidence makes much of it.

Recreating the ‘atmosphere of Rumi’, the bar is decorated in soft brown hues and incredibly dim lighting with a very pseudo-Arabian feel, yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel there was something...missing in the design. Couches lining the wall, check. Peppered with cushions EVERYWHERE, check. Mini chandeliers and curtains trailing the roof, check and check. Bronzed Morroccan tables and candles. Final check. Yet a sense of under-furnishing pervades it, and I don’t mean that disgusting retro-minimalism trend in bar design these days (see, Light Bar). Perhaps the size has instigated that in order to make a dancing/mingling space...it also makes it difficult to chat with other friends when in large groups.

Yet it doesn’t ruin the sense of calm pervading the place, Ivory opium pipes would be fantastic additions here.

Now, if only the bartenders could tend to you like they would at an Opium house. Service is excellent, no doubt. Bartenders are polite and will prepare many classic cocktails off the menu and never ignore a customer waiting at the bar, but they aren’t the type to check up on the customers at their seats – understandably, most ‘tenders don’t, but in most bars of this size and of this quality, they do. At the same time, if you’re nice enough and remind them that it’s your birthday, they might even keep the bar open an hour longer for you (^_^)

Cocktails. Were. Beautiful. Whilst not necessarily the most extensive in London, it is superb, and as aforementioned, classics off the menu can and will be prepared on order. The ‘Cocktail’ and ‘Martini’ sections are priced at £7.50 with stars like Blood Orange (Absolut Mandarin with orange juice, raspberry and lime) and the utterly fantastic Socialite, Stoli Raspberry Vodka shaken with Vanilla liqueur, Apple juice Chambord and Strawberry puree.

And if a cocktail can impress me.
It’s probably worth it.

As for the ‘Martini’ section; if you’re a Martini purist, this will not impress you. Honestly.

A pair of ‘Champagne Cocktails’ at £8 like the Eldervice, Plymouth Gin shaken with Elderflower cordial, Apple juice, and top with Champagne are worth the extra 50p; ‘Champagne’ bottles for every budget ranging from £45>55 (eh) to £70 (much better) to £140 Dom Perignon>250 Cristal (maybe the next time I get paid >_<) to ‘Spirit’ bottles in the £100-something range.

‘Shooters’ at £3.50 and ‘Premium Shooters’ at £4 are a short list, but fun none the less, request a classic Slippery Nipple if you like; but over here, the La Fee (Black Sambuca and La Fee Absinthe layered) strikes a face-contorting favourite of mine.

‘Wine List’. Disappointing. A tiny list with none that range over £20 a bottle which usually are... Well. You know. The absence of Chardonnay is sad. Then again, Rumi is about the cocktails that drag you back here again and again, even their £5 ‘Virgin Cocktails’ are worth it (which reminds me, Asahi beer. None else for you beer drinkers).  

Prices here are incredibly reasonable for the area, believe you me!

When booking tables, inform Manoj, the delightfully patient manager, whether you want food served or not, and specify (Menu on website). Food is also reasonable with a distinct Lebanese fusion taste, worth the bite.

Early evenings can start with chilled out acoustics and soul and proceed to House and RnB later on (drown it out with alcohol if you must, I forgive you, ‘cause I did too). But I suppose they make good party tunes when you’re a bit off it after the La Fee’s and Socialites.

Summary, cherubs? I do like Rumi’s. True, the music may not be run by a genius DJ, but hell, with drinks like that and such wonderful staff, it balances out. Design and atmosphere really allows one to relax, at the same time, the dance floor and party tunes can give you a reason to dance the night away with some rather intriguing and respectable (well, most of the time) bar patrons. Some advice? Keep checking the website and call in advance for bookings, their events are really quite random and private hires are common.
Helpful hint: Make a pal out of the bar manager and invitations texted to you from him for last minute parties are common =D

And in the name of the immortal poet: Come, come, whoever you are; Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Design: 7

Drinks: 8

Service: 7

Rumi Bar

531 Kings Rd
London, SW10 0TZ

Telephone & Website:
020 78233362
http://www.rumibar.com

Hours:

As aforementioned, check the site for the events list and call and check for bookings. The hours can change depending.

...

Stop being so damn lazy and just CALL, jeez.

If anyone would like to have a bar/club reviewed, you're welcome to send a request.

Until next time, cherubs; adios!

In the Beginning

Ciao and welcome to the debut blog of ‘What’s Your Venom’! The idea is to review as many bars with a name ‘round cosy lil London (with some serious inebriation on the side, of course) and bring you the results so you don’t have to. I mean honestly, could you not trust a face like mine? *blink blink*

This pretty much was born of my general distaste of *gasp* pub culture and that-bar-with-the-90%-ethanol-shots. Cocktails and finely made drinks are an art, so finding a place where you can really enjoy one well made is a gem;  that’s the bar I’m searching for.

So perhaps we can launch into a first review of the highly spoken of bar, Detroit!

Right. Detroit. Now I’ve heard words high and low about this place, but I will admit: it’s not for the slim of wallet, which explains much of the crowd – comfortable middle class professionals and young things on the way up.

Let’s do this chrono/logically. Firstly, this seems to have gathered it’s name pretty well, considering a Saturday night table was near impossible to get a hand on without a man-on-the-inside 3 days in advance, so advice, cherubs? You better plan ahead. Or make contacts. Former’s easier.

This was not too surprising once in the bar, it ain’t that big, but I must admit, it adds to the atmosphere which has been alternatively been described as ‘cosy’ and ‘intimate’ or ‘holey’ and ‘dungeon-like’. See, if I had to explain the décor, I’d say….you remember the bar the Flintstones used to visit?
Yeah.
But, I must say, they pulled it off! The rocky walls and purple seats aren’t jarring, especially under the small funky orange wall lights – and the bar gets darker the deeper you walk into it, ending with a small stairway into the private room for larger parties – want a lil privacy? Go for the alcoves, great for dates, with benches and curtains to seal you off.

Curtains. *dirty thoughts*

On the topic of décor and visuals, the younger clientele are definitely not hard on the eyes, neither are the bartenders that’s for sure.
"HEY BARTENDER! GET YOUR SEXY LI'L ASS BACK HERE!"
Yes. That was awkward.

On the subject of ‘tenders; service is fantastic. Security was incredibly respectful, bartenders will continually check up on you even in the thickest of crowds and alter drinks to your specifications and will pretty much bend over backwards and prepare drinks off the menu. Not to mention their expertise!

The cocktail list is incredibly varied which is wonderful, but also leaves the danger of alcohol mixing, so one really needs to keep an eye on the ingredients here, luckily the menu is also divided into sections depending on the cocktails’ most notable qualities: The Tropicals, Martinis, etc. The wine list? Average. This place is devoted to cocktails.

The cocktails themselves? Look fabulous, smell inviting enough to not make you recoil in terror of the alcohol content and made with some serious skill – sly ones these are.
Well, all smell inviting enough except for the ‘Overproof’ cocktails, a section devoted to those willing to take on lit overproofed rum and a variety of absinthe cocktails (guess where I was), but again, still fantastic. The ‘Super Premium’ cocktails also worth if you’re willing to throw in a couple more pounds, with champagne and variety of pricier ingredients. These prices make me warn you – choose well. 

J.A. commenting on the ‘Green Demon’ : “This tastes like…AQUAFRESH!”

MUSIC. My my my. Retro and Funk is the bar’s traditional fare, and Saturday was a vinyl night but honestly? DJ didn’t seem to know what he was doing – took a perfectly good song and butchered it – went totally fucking minestrone on it (much like what some of the cocktails were like – sometimes simple is best, cherubs.) Still though, music was alright, but don’t look forward to much dancing. Don’t look for a dancefloor. Even if you do, the crowd doesn’t seem to succumb to the beat, which was such a shame because I would hold that as being my only actual problem with this wonderful bar; this coupled with its early closing times deem it a relaxing/meet-old-friends/pre-party bar. Which would be excellent if the music weren’t so dang loud. Identity crisis, much?

Summary? Great place to meet up with friends and chat, especially on weekdays. Not to mention some of the best cocktails I’ve found in the City, bartenders really do aim to please and please they do. Ambience is fun and funky, music can be good at times, at others…well.

I’ll see myself back here soon =D

Design: 7/10

Drinks: 9/10

Service: 9/10

Quote of the evening:

U.O.: “They’re Norwegian, right?”
The Doctor: “But I thought they were black?”
U.O.: “They ARE.”
The Doctor: “There are black people in Norway?”
U.O.: “Apparently! I’m black and didn’t even know that.”

Detroit Bar

35 Earlham Street
London, WC2 H9LT

Telephone & Website:
+44 20 7240 2662
http://www.detroit-bar.com (Check out the prices here in the 'Menu' section)

Hours:
Mon-Fri: 5pm-12.30am, Sat: 6pm-12.30am (see what I mean by early?)

The blog will also bring you the occasional VLog showing you how to prepare the variety of drinks, cocktails and advice on how to make the most of it -

First I need to get my hands on a camera. And learn how to use MovieMaker.
I can dream =(